


Bees

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 11:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11417034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Aragorn shares his prize.





	Bees

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for elenathen’s “7 [honey] for Aragorn/Legolas” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/162565904960/prompt-list-3).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s turning the corridor, only two doors away from his own quarters, when a familiar whistle halts him in his tracks. He turns, glancing back, and already knows who he’ll find. Though many that now stay in Rivendell are of interest to Aragorn, this guest brings him the most pleasure by far. He gives Legolas a subtle bow, befitting of a prince, and straightens again as Legolas finally reaches him. Legolas dips his head in equal greeting, then thrusts out a little ceramic pot held tight in his hands. 

Aragorn looks down at it, curious, and asks, “A gift? For me? You shouldn’t have.”

Legolas lets out a chiming laugh, beautiful and teasing. He shakes his head, which tosses bright blond hair about his handsome face, his blue eyes alight with early joy. “I am sorry for taking so long to deliver it to you, but I had thought it might be rude to do so at last night’s banquet when I arrived, as I had no such presents for the other guests.”

“So it is for me then,” Aragorn muses, though he makes no move to take it: the longer it remains in Legolas’ hands, the longer the conversation must last.

“Aye,” Legolas admits, “but not from me.”

Aragorn can’t help a tiny flicker of disappointment, even though Legolas has brought him many things over the years, and Legolas’ presence is a present in itself.

Legolas then explains: “From the Beornings. It is honey, I believe, untouched and filled to the top.” He pauses, then adds slyly, as the corridor is empty and they’re free to purr, “A sweet gift for a sweet man.”

Aragorn grins and finally reaches out, lifting the lid off the little pot. Indeed, it’s full to the brim, the surface smooth. He sets the lid down again and announces, “You have done well to make it this far with it and still be able to claim it untouched. The Beornings produce the finest honey in all of Middle Earth. But you must have known I would have allowed you some on your journey.”

Legolas merely shakes his head, sighing languidly, “I am afraid not. They made me promise not to touch it, so alas, I cannot taste it even now.” His eyebrows knit cutely together, but his smile destroys the wounded effect, and after a pointed hesitation, he murmurs, “Unless...”

“Unless?” Aragorn prompts, sure he’ll like whatever suggestion Legolas has. “If it’s permission you seek, you have it. As far as I’m concerned, you may touch anything of mine that you like.”

Legolas’ gaze is burning, but he only answers, “I am afraid that will not release me from my vow. My hands are not to touch it... but yours... that is another matter. And where you put your hands is no one’s business but your own.”

Aragorn understands exactly what Legolas means. He’s fed Legolas from his hand a dozen times, though only solid foods before, nothing like _this_ , so _messy_. It doesn’t stop him wanting to try. He slides the lid back off the jar, tucking it against Legolas’ palms, and dips his index finger far down into the mix. As precious as this gift is, sharing with Legolas is never a waste, and he knows he’ll enjoy this application even more than he would smearing this delicacy across his bread. He then brings his hand to Legolas’ lips, and Legolas, eyes fixed on Aragorn’s, bends forward to stick out his tongue.

It presses, hard and utterly sinful, right against Aragorn’s knuckle, then drags up to the very top, lapping over the blunt nail and dipping around the other side. Aragorn watches with quickened breath as Legolas dutifully cleans him, only to rise at the end and open wide, sliding down, enveloping him in a tight, wet heat. Legolas closes his plush lips and _sucks_ , making Aragorn’s blood rush somewhere else entirely.

Far longer than necessary, Legolas sucks Aragorn’s finger dry. Aragorn only wishes he’d used two digits, so he could stretch Legolas’ mouth open wider, piston properly in and out and stroke Legolas’ tongue. When Legolas eventually slides off, Aragorn is ready to go in for another and use up the entire jar right here. 

He waits, first, to watch Legolas sensually lick his lips, then murmur quietly, “That is _very_ good. ...May I have some more?”

At the last minute, Aragorn regains his wits just enough to grab Legolas’ wrist and drag the debauched Woodland prince straight to his quarters.


End file.
